The Stars
by maxini-sama
Summary: A very sad (and very short) fanfic about Zel and Rezo


Zelgadis beheld the stars as they traced their nightly course across the inky, moonless sky with much more interest than he had in years. He'd long ago realized that they were lofty candles, nothing more, and he did not often see the sense in returning their cold, unwavering stare They'd seemed so magical once, bright and full of hope. Now they appeared only faded and worn, like everything else he had ever known and loved. It saddened and angered him to know that not even stars remained constant. Still, he could not help being drawn to them, now and again, on the nights he felt nostalgic, letting his pretenses fall. Nights like this made him yearn to revisit the past.   
The past. The past was now only a distant memory he could never again hold, like a dream that had flown from him upon waking. His life now was the cold, cruel reality of the tangible world and all that had come before was only an illusion of what could have been forever, in some fantasy-land far away. But fantasy could never be reality, could it? That was asking too much of Fate. His life was so different now, so changed, it was hard for even him to believe what he had once had. Bitterly he wondered where his dreams had gone after the world had gotten in the way.  
  
They had had a hill once, gently rising upwards to a rounded top, where it felt as if you could touch the velvet night itself. Civilization had not yet left its mark, and the hill's grassy slopes, dotted with dark green clover and wet with dew, were free and beautiful in the way only nature's creations can be. There, on the nights when the moon was new and hidden and the light of the stars was the only to be seen upon that sable field, Zelgadis and his grandfather would make the easy climb to the crest and spend the night under the blanket of the heavens.   
Nestled among the robes of Rezo the Red Priest, Zelgadis fell asleep listening to the legends of the stars: of intrepid heroes waylaid by Destiny, demons imprisoned in constellations of burning fire, and of old and sagacious rulers, watching and guiding those below. Zelgadis loved these stories, he knew each by heart, yet he never grew tired of hearing them on those moonless and almost magical nights. Zelgadis was allowed to stay up late on those special occasions, and he asked for stories until it was all he could do to keep from falling asleep.  
But even magical nights bleed into dawn, and as the stars winked out into the morning, the young Zelgadis drifted likewise into sleep. And, oh, the dreams he had in those enchanted sleeps! The stars were alive in those dreams, alive and dancing around him in their myriad of colors and histories. Zelgadis slept through the dawn and early morning to awake to the gentle prodding of his grandfather.  
"Come along, Zel-chan, it's time to go now."  
The young boy would nod and the two would start their descent down the now sunlit slope. The bright contrast of the sun only made the memories from the night before more vivid and exotic.   
  
Those were, Zelgadis realized only in retrospect, the best days of his life. Once, though, just once, there had been a shadow across the joy. One morning out of dozens of mornings, but it was so heartwrenching, especially for so young and innocent a heart.   
The sun had been just as bright that morning, and the grass just as soft. But for whatever reason, whatever purpose, Zelgadis had not fallen asleep. He lay against his grandfather, pretending, secretly laying awake and listening with his eyes closed to the songs of the new day. He felt Rezo move behind him, felt a slender finger run through his hair, and heard a pained whisper above him.  
"Are...are the stars beautiful, Zelgadis? As long as they're beautiful, nothing is wrong in...in the world. But, I wish...I wish I could see them...Just once."  
Zelgadis felt a single tear fall into the nest of his hair, trickling slowly down his scalp. One tear, such a small thing, but how many times had it been shed? Zelgadis felt something within him that day, something he hadn't felt before. If ever his life had turned on a moment, it had turned then, on that grassy hill, against the backdrop of happier times.  
  
"Beautiful."  
The word rolled off his tongue, accompanied by a short, mocking laugh. It was a word he used rarely; it felt too large, or too heavy, for his mouth. What did he know of beauty now? He saw no beauty when he looked at the world around him, or the stars removed in the heavens.  
"The stars aren't beautiful, Grandfather; they're only stars. And nothing is well in the world."  
And time eats everything, he thought, even the magic of the stars.   



End file.
